


All Bets Are Off

by lallyloo



Category: Eagle of the Ninth Series - Rosemary Sutcliff, The Eagle | Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 07:25:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lallyloo/pseuds/lallyloo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Esca is a cocky rich guy who attends underground fights. One night he sees Marcus fight, all wild beauty, tattoos, cuts and bruises. He offers Marcus an absurd amount of money for the night together. Marcus agrees, then turns the tables on Esca and takes control away from him. Before Esca knows it, he's lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Bets Are Off

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to livejournal in November 2011.

The fighter is new.

It's the end of the night when he steps into the ring, and he's wide-eyed and fearless as he stares down his opponent. His first jab hits under the eye and sends blood splattering across the cement floor, and a second jab knocks out a tooth, sending his opponent to cower at the edge of the makeshift ring and tend to his wounds.

The new guy is bouncing from foot to foot as he flicks his hand, shaking off blood that isn't his own, and he's watching his opponent, waiting. Other fighters would heckle and catcall, trying to get inside their opponent's head, but the guy is quiet as if he's planning his next attack and the silence is almost worse. It's a mind game, and this new fighter plays it well as he takes two hits –one to his jaw, one to his ribs– and then he gives a quick one-two and his opponent is bloodied and falling. He's down for the count, and the new guy turns and paces, spitting out a mouthful of blood as he waits for the ref to declare him the winner.

Esca stands in the crowd, watching as the men around him exchange wads of cash, the ones with the winning bets looking thrilled while the losers swear in defeat and call for a rematch.

Two muscled figures step in, lifting the dazed opponent up by his arms and dragging him off, and then the next match is called. The new guy remains where he stands, watching as his next opponent enters the ring, and Esca watches for a flicker in the guy's eye as he considers how and where to strike first. It's another quick match as he takes a punch to the cheek before striking back, first with a jab to the gut which knocks the wind from his opponent, and then with a swift uppercut to the chin which knocks the guy to the floor. The ref hasn't even declared him the winner when the guys who've lost bets start forking over money to the winners.

Esca pushes through the crowd until he reaches one of the refs and he's leaning in to speak. “I want to meet him.”

The ref nods, recognizing Esca immediately. “Of course, sir.”

 

Esca's been to high-end fights held at private homes, with big name fighters and even bigger name betters. The women are beautiful, the alcohol flows freely, and the fights are usually rigged.

Esca prefers these fights. There are no beautiful distractions or expensive drinks, but the fights are raw and real, and they're sure as fuck not rigged. There's no backstage at these events, only empty spaces in abandoned parking garages or occasionally a filthy back room, and Esca considers fortune to be on his side when he's escorted into a rundown room to meet the new fighter. The guy's re-wrapping his hand when Esca walks in, and he glances up, giving Esca a once over before turning his focus back to his knuckles.

“What's your name?” Esca asks, sparing them both any formalities.

The guy answers, but doesn't glance up again. “Marcus.”

“You're a skilled fighter, Marcus.”

Marcus shrugs and spits another mouthful of blood on the floor.

“Where'd you learn to fight like that?”

“What's it to you?”

It's Esca's turn to shrug. “Curiosity.”

“Look,” Marcus says, turning to glare at Esca, “I meet guys like you all the time. You rich fuckers come in here, wanting to manage me. Offering your money and trying to tell me what to do. You might as well save your breath because I don't need a manager.”

“Manager?” Esca scoffs. “I run a multi-million dollar company, and I make more in one week than you make in a year. I don't have the fucking time to manage you.”

“So what do you want then?”

Esca watches him for a second, staring at his wrapped knuckles where blood has started to seep through the tape. “I have another type of proposition for you.”

“What's that.”

“I'd like to spend the night with you.”

Marcus stares at Esca, his expression blank.

“I have money,” Esca continues. “I'd make it worth your while.”

“I'm not a whore,” Marcus spits.

“I never said you were.”

“You want to fuck me for money. What else would that mean?”

“I want you to fuck me,” Esca says calmly. “The money is just an incentive. But if you'd like to do it for free that's fine too.”

“What makes you think I'd want to fuck you?”

Esca shrugs again. “My charm?” he says, smirking. “Good looks? Wit? If that doesn't sway you there's still the money.”

“How much money are we talking?”

“Enough,” Esca says, walking over to Marcus and whispering a figure in his ear.

When he pulls back Marcus seems to consider him for a second, and Esca suddenly feels like one of Marcus's opponents in a fight, as if he's is trying to figure out where to strike.

“If I agree to do this,” Marcus begins, pausing as Esca's face breaks into a smile. “Wipe that smile off your face, I haven't said yes yet. _If_ I agree to do this, it's going to be on my conditions.”

“Which are?”

“I'm in charge. You might be in charge in your world, but with me you're not in charge. We do it my way, and with my rules.”

“What rules are those?”

Marcus gives him a look that he can't quite decipher. “I haven't decided yet.”

It's Esca's turn to step back and consider Marcus. He has no idea what Marcus's rules will be, and he could be setting himself up for something terrible. _Or_ he could be setting himself up for the best fuck of his life.

Esca's willing to take the risk.

“Fine,” he says. “Grab your stuff and my car will pick you up outside.”

“How will I know which car is yours?”

Esca's already heading for the door, but he turns back.

“Rich fucker, remember?” he says, pointing to himself. “Trust me, you'll know.”

 

Marcus stares out the window as the car winds in and out of traffic. Each street lamp they pass streaks his face in yellowish light, highlighting his features for a split second before slipping him into darkness again. He's got a bruise on his jaw, and a cut on his bottom lip from an earlier wound which appears to be healing. Esca slides across the smooth leather seat and takes two glasses from a small cabinet, tossing ice in each one. He fills them both halfway and hands a glass to Marcus.

“Scotch?”

Marcus takes the glass with barely a nod and downs it in one gulp, pursing his lips as the burning alcohol slides down his throat.

“Another?” Esca asks, motioning to take the glass.

“No.”

Marcus hands the glass back to Esca and watches while Esca slowly sips his own drink. Esca can feel the scrutiny from Marcus's gaze and he shifts back in his seat, trying to look relaxed, crossing one leg over the other and resting his arm across the back of the leather seat. He meets Marcus's scrutinizing gaze with one of his own.

Marcus looks unperturbed. “You do this a lot?”

Esca takes another sip of scotch. “That would depend on what you mean by _this_ ,” Esca says. “Attend fights? Drink fine scotch in the back of my limo? Carry on conversations with violent underground street fighters?”

“I mean pay guys like me to fuck you,” Marcus mutters, looking unimpressed by Esca's humor.

“I have done,” Esca replies, because he doesn't see the point in lying. “Does that upset you?”

“I don't give a shit what you do,” Marcus shrugs. “If you have to pay for it, that's your business.”

Esca bristles. “I don't _have_ to pay for it. I choose to, because it's easier.”

“How so.”

“I look at it as a business deal,” Esca takes the last sip of his drink. “No emotional attachment.”

Marcus doesn't respond, and he turns his gaze to the window as the car begins to slow. The driver takes the vehicle down a long driveway, buzzing them through the security gate, and pulls the car up to the front entrance.

Esca raises his empty glass in a mock toast. “Home sweet home.”

 

Esca leads Marcus through the entryway, down the main hall, towards the great room. They move in silence, but for the sound of their shoes on the marble floor, and Marcus glances into each room they pass.

“Scotch?” Esca offers again, stepping behind the bar and taking out two glasses.

“No.”

Esca slips three ice cubes into his glass and fills it halfway. “I also have beer, if you'd rather.”

“No.”

“Suit yourself.” Esca takes out a beer anyway, setting it on the bar, before taking a sip of his drink. He watches Marcus, who is slowly pacing the room and looking unimpressed.

“What's one person need with all this space?”

“How do you know I live alone?” Esca smirks.

Marcus gives him a glare as if he sees right through him, and then slides his hand along the back of the sofa, feeling the brocade and flicking one of the tassels. “You actually like this stuff?”

“That's French silk,” Esca says, tilting his glass towards the sofa. “It's expensive.”

“That's not what I asked.”

Esca shrugs. “I like it well enough.”

Marcus ignores the reply and walks over to the grand piano in the corner. “Steinway,” he mutters as he touches the keys, and a few notes trickle out before he speaks again. “You play?”

“Nah, it's just for show.”

Marcus ignores Esca again, focusing his attention on the piano. It's an intriguing juxtaposition – Marcus, bruised and bloodied, standing next to the sleek black piano, his callused fingers ghosting over the smooth black and white keys.

“And you?” Esca asks, because he's suddenly curious. “Do you play?”

There's a beat as Marcus's hand stills, and for a split second Esca is sure he's going to say yes.

“No.”

“Thought you were going to say yes,” Esca laughs. “You seem quite taken with it.”

Marcus looks unamused. “I just find it interesting.”

“The piano?”

“You,” Marcus gestures around the room, waving his hand flippantly, “all this.”

“How so?”

“You own a grand piano that you can't play, you buy shit just because it's expensive--”

“I'm not paying you to insult my taste,” Esca interrupts.

“You haven't paid me anything yet.”

“A valid point.” Esca swiftly crosses the room and unlocks a desk drawer. He withdraws a large wad of bills before re-locking the drawer and slipping the key into his pocket, then he holds out the cash and waits for Marcus to walk across the room and take it.

“I'm giving you half now,” Esca explains when Marcus reaches for the money. “You'll get the other half at the end of the night.”

Marcus pauses. “How do I know you'll hold up your end of the deal?”

“I'm a man of my word.” Esca thrusts the money in Marcus's outstretched hand. “As long as you hold up _your_ end of the deal you'll get what I promised you.”

Marcus stuffs the cash into his pocket. “So where are we doing this?”

“ _Doing this_ ,” Esca repeats the words, smirking, “you make it sound so casual.”

Marcus lunges then, as if they're in a fight and Esca is his opponent, and Esca doesn't see the move coming. His breath catches as Marcus shoves him against the desk and thrusts his knee between Esca's thighs, pinning him.

“A business deal, right?” Marcus spits. His breath is hot against Esca's cheek as he leans in, and Esca can smell him. Marcus smells of sweat and blood and earth, and the thick humid air of that filthy back room, and an ache grows low in Esca's groin.

“We haven't laid out your rules,” Esca says, his voice softer than he'd like as he speaks against Marcus's ear. He doesn't really care about the rules at this point, his cock is already growing stiff and he's not about to back out, but if Marcus wants rules he can lay down rules.

Marcus grasps Esca's hair and tilts his head back, holding him in place and speaking against Esca's cheek. “Two rules. One, I'll fuck you, but I won't blow you. And two, you'll do as I say.”

“That's a pretty open-ended rule.”

“It's simple, actually,” Marcus growls. “You want me to fuck you, you'll do as I say. Got it?”

Esca can't help but smile, despite the hold Marcus has on him. “Got it.” Esca pushes his cock against Marcus's leg, using the small amount of leverage he can manage. “I want you to blow me, though.”

“My rules,” Marcus shakes his head, taking some of his weight off Esca. “And if I'm going to fuck you I need to be hard,” he uses his hold on Esca's hair to give him a push, forcing him to his knees. “So make me hard.”

 

Esca pulls the ties on Marcus's pants, yanking them down far enough to expose him, and Esca breathes in the sweat and musk of Marcus as he buries his face in his groin. Despite being flaccid, Marcus's cock is built like the rest of him, strong and thick, and it only take a few swipes of Esca's tongue for it to begin filling with blood.

“That didn't take much,” Esca gloats, easing off for a moment, “seems you're more into this than you're letting on.”

Marcus spreads his legs, widening his stance, and tightens his hold on Esca's hair as he thrusts into his mouth, giving Esca little space to pull off. Effectively silenced, Esca focuses his attention on Marcus's body. Lifting Marcus's white t-shirt, Esca skims his fingers over Marcus's abdomen. He traces the tattoo across Marcus's lower belly and thumbs over a fading bruise that follows his hip bone and meets the trail of hair that leads to his cock. A sharp breath escapes Marcus as Esca's thumb prods his bruised skin, and Marcus is quick as his free hand moves down to push Esca's fingers off him.

Esca manages to pull his head back far enough to speak. “You're mine for the night, I should be able to touch you when I like.”

“You're paying me to fuck you,” Marcus glares down at him. “You didn't say anything about touching me.”

Esca scrapes his teeth across the head of Marcus's cock. “For the money I'm paying you, I assumed it was a given.”

“Never assume.”

Marcus tightens his hold on Esca's hair, and he's rough when he pulls Esca's mouth over him again, forcing his cock down Esca's throat and holding him there until Esca is sure he's about to choke. His eyes are threatening to water and he can barely breathe, but Marcus holds him still when Esca tries to pull back. Esca manages to force out a growl, his throat vibrating against Marcus's length, and when it does nothing to discourage him Esca raises his fist and gives Marcus a sharp, hard punch to his thigh.

It seems to catch him off guard and the instant Marcus lets go Esca pulls back, swiping his hand across his mouth and glancing up at the fighter standing above him. The look on Marcus's face is a mix of surprise and absolute fury as he watches Esca rise to his feet, and it's suddenly very clear to Esca that he's made a mistake.

They're sparring now, and Marcus is ready for a fight.

Marcus shifts from foot to foot, his cock still hard and full, and Esca is careful as he regains his bearings. He's sure Marcus is about to strike and he wants to be ready for it – ready to duck or dodge or strike back. 

As Marcus shifts, circling Esca, his expression becomes unreadable in the dim light of the room. Esca's own cock is achingly hard, and growing harder with the threat of Marcus before him. He watches, waiting, never turning his back on Marcus until finally Marcus speaks.

“Strip. Now.”

Esca jumps to obey the order, loosening his tie just enough to yank it over his head and quickly stripping out of the rest of his clothes until he's standing naked in front of Marcus. He's not ashamed at the way his cock betrays him, showing his desire in the rock hard length of it, and he meets Marcus's gaze with a smirk.

“Like what you see?”

“Shut up,” Marcus grunts, lunging and pushing Esca back up against the desk. His thigh is between Esca's legs again and Esca takes the opportunity to rut his naked cock against Marcus.

“Come on,” Esca taunts, “give me my money's worth.”

Then Marcus is moving again, striking. He grabs Esca by the hair and turns him around, bending Esca over the desk and trapping his cock beneath him. Marcus holds tight to the back of Esca's head, pushing his cheek down against the expensive wood.

“That's it,” Esca groans as Marcus leans into him, allowing Esca very little movement between himself and the desk.

“You got a condom?”

“In here,” Esca manages to reach down, tapping one of the desk drawers. “It's unlocked.”

Marcus pulls open the desk drawer and something akin to a laugh escapes his throat when sees Esca's stash.

“You fuck in here a lot?”

Esca doesn't confirm or deny. “Best to be prepared.”

Marcus doesn't reply, and Esca can only listen as Marcus rips the condom open with his teeth and somehow manages to slide it over his cock with one hand. Then there's the pop of a bottle cap and Esca feels cold lube trailing down between his ass cheeks.

Marcus doesn't start slow.

He shoves a slicked finger into Esca, twisting and pulling out before adding a second and then a third. It should be too much too soon, but Esca's cock is throbbing and leaking beneath him and he's taunting Marcus from his position on the desk.

“Come on, fuck me already,” he goads, “show me you're worth all that money I'm spending.”

The words seem to strike a nerve as Marcus's grip tightens on the back of Esca's neck, and he sinks his cock into Esca's ass.

Esca hadn't noticed how thick the head of Marcus's cock was until it's in him, and he's momentarily struck silent as Marcus's length fills him. Marcus pushes in and in until Esca is sure he's going to break, and as much as he wants it he can't mask the sigh of relief when Marcus finally stops.

There's a pause, the only one Marcus allows him, and then Marcus is pulling out and thrusting back into him and it's all _hard_ and _fast_ and _slick_ as Esca's body is slammed against the unyielding desk below. Each one of Esca's moans are met with a grunt from Marcus, and the room echoes with the sound of them as Marcus's hips slap against Esca's skin and the desk creaks beneath their weight.

When Esca feels the familiar heat pooling low in his belly he shifts against the wood, trying to get some friction against his cock. His attempts are fruitless, and Esca hates himself for the whine in his voice as he pants, “let me turn over, please, my cock--”

Marcus doesn't wait for him to finish before his hand slides from Esca's neck and he pulls back, flipping Esca over onto his back. The sudden rush of cool air is a relief against Esca's cock, its flushed red length lined with marks from being crushed against the desk. Still fully-clothed, Marcus is dripping with sweat and Esca watches as he tugs his t-shirt off and tosses it onto the floor. The sight is familiar, from the fight earlier that evening, and Esca can't help but stare at the cuts and bruises that litter Marcus's chest. Esca reaches up tentatively, tracing over the tattoos that trail down Marcus's shoulders and biceps, and then down over the marks on his chest. There's a scar on his neck, a scratch across his left nipple, and a smattering of bruises across his right. Esca trails his hand down over Marcus's abdomen, once again thumbing over the bruises there.

Marcus is still standing over him, and Esca can't stop himself from snarking, “thought I wasn't allowed to touch you.”

Marcus shoves his hands away. “You're still not.”

“It's a shame you let yourself get hurt this way,” Esca continues without really thinking, and it seems to strike another nerve with Marcus.

“Stop talking.”

“That wasn't one of your rules.”

“It is now. Stop talking.” Then Marcus hooks his elbows under Esca's knees and fucks into him, harder this time.

With Marcus thrusting into him, and every stroke sending a jolt straight to his balls, Esca realizes he wouldn't be able to speak if he wanted to. So he leans back, spread across the desk below Marcus, and jerks his aching cock until he's coming. He pauses as he comes, holding his foreskin down as tight as it'll go, his cock straining and hard as a rock as he pulses and shoots all over himself.

Marcus waits until Esca's done and then he pulls out. He peels off the condom, tossing it on the floor, and quickly jacks himself over Esca's stomach.

“Money,” Marcus says, stepping away from the desk and picking up his t-shirt.

Esca sits up on the desk, not bothering to cover himself. “That's it?”

“I fucked you.” Marcus pulls on his shirt and tugs up his pants. “Business deal complete.”

“Incorrect.” Esca hops off the desk, striding past his clothes as he heads to the bar. “You want that beer now?”

Marcus ignores the question. “I fucked you. Now give me the rest of my money.”

“I said I wanted you for the night.” Esca pours himself another drink. “The night's not over.”

“You're serious?”

“Stay the night and you'll get the rest of your money in the morning.”

Marcus laughs bitterly as he heads for the door. “Fuck you.”

*

Esca attends four different fights before he manages to find Marcus again.

Esca doesn't do repeats, so he's not entirely sure why he's looking for him. Most guys stay the night and Esca tires of them by morning, wanting nothing more than to get them out of his house before he even eats breakfast. But Marcus didn't stay the night. Hell, he refused. Walked out without the money or even a second glance.

Something about that makes Esca want him again. To see if he can break him. Or be broken by him.

They're down to the last fight of the night and Esca assumes it's been another night without an appearance by Marcus. Esca's just starting to resign himself to the idea that Marcus skipped town, leaving the fighting world as quickly as he arrived. Or maybe he was roped into the high-end fights. With his impressive fighting style, it wouldn't take long for someone to set their eyes on Marcus and offer him big bucks to fight in the upscale rigged matches. In his mind Esca declares the night unsuccessful and is considering calling his bookie to get the names of the fighters at the latest high-end matches when the ref announces the next fight and Marcus steps into the ring.

Esca pushes through the crowd to get a look at him.

He looks the same – intense, focused, and a little wild. Marcus is shifting from foot to foot, waiting for his opponent to enter the ring, and Esca's eyes are drawn to his torso where the cuts and bruises from a few weeks before have faded and made way for new ones. A large purple bruise runs over his ribs on the left side of his body, and there are several cuts just above his navel. Esca's gaze moves up to Marcus's face where a fading gash runs across his right eye and another smaller one runs over the bridge of his nose. It's obvious he's been fighting, but Esca isn't sure where.

His opponent enters the ring and Marcus is on. He's circling, watching, waiting to strike, and it all seems so familiar now. Esca's been there, seen that body moving before him, threatening, and he doesn't bother to fight it when his cock grows stiff in his trousers.

The other fighter lashes out and Marcus ducks, dodges, and then he's striking back _one-two_ and the guy goes down. Marcus's wrapped hands are stained with the other guy's blood, and Marcus steps back, waiting to see if the guy's going to get up. When he does, Marcus is moving again, keeping his eyes on his opponent and Esca watches intently from the sidelines. He's already plotting to track Marcus down after the fight. Offer him more money, maybe banter with him a bit, then get fucked. Marcus gets in another jab and the crowd cheers as his opponent stumbles back.

Marcus is circling again, ready to attack, and Esca isn't sure what catches his eye but suddenly Marcus's eyes lock on him. His expression is unreadable, as always, and Esca can only stare back as the room seems to slow. The moment is quick, barely a second or two, but his opponent seizes the opportunity and deals Marcus a swift punch to the side of his face. The force of it sends Marcus flying back and his hand comes up to swipe across his mouth. Then he's moving again as he glances down at his hand, determining whether the blood on his wrappings is his own or his opponent's, and it's clear it's Marcus's this time as he spits a mouthful of blood on the floor.

The distraction and the unexpected hit seem to install new fury in Marcus and he's circling faster, dodging every lunge his opponent attempts until the guy gets frustrated and makes a careless move. His arm is swinging to punch Marcus, leaving his side wide open and Marcus strikes a quick blow to the guy's ribs and another to his stomach. As the guy reacts, curling into the hit, Marcus nails a swift uppercut and the fight is over before the guy hits the floor.

Marcus disappears into the crowd, and Esca pushes his way to another ref and informs him he'd like to speak with Marcus. The ref points to an open space behind the crowd where a dim yellow light shines like a beacon. No back room this time, just empty space in an old car lot, and Esca is hoping Marcus is back there as he pushes through the crowd of dispersing bettors.

 

“What do you want?”

The words are out of Marcus's mouth before he even turns around. After the moment of recognition in the ring, it's obvious he was expecting Esca's arrival.

“I've been well, thanks for asking, and you?”

Marcus looks unamused as he unwraps his hand and tosses the bloodied bandage on the floor. “What do you want?”

Esca chances a step closer, but is still sure to maintain his distance. He feels confident he can banter with Marcus but if he misjudges and pushes it too far it's best to save room for a quick escape. “I'll bet you already know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Marcus mutters. “But you're a tricky fucker, I'm not falling for that again.”

“Falling for what?”

“Your 'stay the night' game.” Marcus stands suddenly and Esca takes a careful step back. “Said you were a man of your word—”

“I am,” Esca says, suddenly feeling quite defensive. “I'll admit I could've been more upfront with you, but I fully intended to give you the rest of the money in the morning.”

“..must think I'm an idiot,” Marcus is muttering to himself, moving away from Esca and focusing on re-wrapping his busted knuckles.

“Actually, I don't,” Esca stands his ground. “I suspect you're far from it.”

“Flattery doesn't work with me.”

“Fine,” Esca says. “You want me to be direct? You need money, I want to get fucked. Come home with me.”

“Told you last time, I'm not your whore.”

“I never said you were.” Esca steps closer. “I'll offer you the same amount as last time, upfront, and you don't have to spend the night.”

Marcus is quiet for a moment, looking displeased but it's clear he's considering the offer.

“My rules still stand.”

“Yes.”

“And I want the money before I fuck you.”

“As promised.”

There's a long pause which Esca is sure Marcus is dragging out just to watch him squirm, and he's just about to open his mouth and speak when Marcus beats him to it, “go wait in your limo. I'll meet you when I'm done here.”

 

The limo ride is uneventful, with Marcus keeping his distance and focusing his attention on the view out the window. He refuses all offers of drinks and refreshments until they're back in Esca's great room and Marcus accepts Esca's last ditch half-joking offer of a glass of water.

“I was starting to think you didn't want anything from me.”

“I don't,” Marcus replies after chugging the entire glass.

Esca hands him a wad of bills. “Except my money.”

“I need it,” Marcus mutters. “But I can leave now if you're going to act like a smug asshole about it.”

Esca is struck silent for a moment, because he's knows the difference between want and need.

“Sorry.”

Marcus doesn't show any sign he accepts the apology, he just glares at Esca and snarls, “Take off your clothes.”

 

It's just as quick as the first time, with Esca already naked and hard before Marcus is even partially undressed. After ordering Esca to put his mouth on him, Marcus soon has Esca bent over the sofa with his face pressed into the expensive French silk as he's nearly split by Marcus's cock. Esca gasps with relief the moment Marcus is buried to the hilt and then he's moaning when Marcus finally pulls back to thrust in again.

It's rough and hard and good, and when Marcus flips him onto his back Esca suddenly can't stop touching Marcus.

Marcus pushes his hands away each time they trail over his shoulders, then chest, then stomach. Esca tries again and again, wanting to trace each bump and bruise and scar on Marcus's body, and as they reach a perfect rhythm together Marcus's resistance seems to weaken. He lets Esca's hands linger a little longer each time before he bats his fingers away, and then it's only a matter of seconds before Esca is reaching up to touch him again.

“Why do you do this?” Esca asks, muttering more to himself than to Marcus, after circling over the large purple bruise on Marcus's left side.

Marcus thrusts in, harder, not losing a beat. “Stop talking.”

“I'm just trying--”

“Stop trying to figure me out,” Marcus grunts, forcefully pushing Esca's hands away. “You don't know me, now shut up.”

Esca scowls up at Marcus and makes no move to touch him again. “Likewise,” Esca mutters before taking his cock in hand and tugging himself to his climax.

He doesn't speak again until after he's come and Marcus has pulled out and come on him again. They've stained the expensive sofa, and Esca laughs as he sits up and slides against the silk. Marcus is already standing off to the side, quickly redressing, so Esca rises and heads to his desk. He pulls open a drawer and takes out another wad of bills.

“Stay the night,” he says, holding the money between two fingers and showing it to Marcus.

Marcus makes no move to take the money. “You think I can't figure you out,” Marcus says, “but I already have.”

“Do tell.”

“You see sex as a business deal,” Marcus spits, “because you're emotionally fucked up and lonely as hell.”

“Fuck yourself,” Esca says as fury builds in him and he tosses the wad of money at Marcus. It skids across the floor and lands at his feet. “Take it.”

“I'm not staying, and I'm not taking that.”

“It's what I owed you for last time,” Esca stalks out of the room, not bothering with his clothes or sparing Marcus a second glance. “I'm going to bed. You can show yourself out.”

 

Esca is just crawling into bed, suddenly hating his ridiculously expensive 3000 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, when Marcus walks into his room.

Esca freezes. He's not sure if Marcus is there to argue or insult or fight, and he's on edge as he watches Marcus strip out of his clothes and get into bed beside him. Marcus doesn't speak or move or lash out. He just rests there on his back. It's odd and strangely comforting, and Esca can only stare at the battered and bruised fighter lying in his bed.

“I'll stay until morning.” Marcus mumbles at the ceiling. “Go to sleep.”

 

“What made you change your mind?”

It takes Esca a good ten minutes to bring himself to ask the question, and as he speaks into the darkened room he's not entirely sure if Marcus is still awake. Esca listens to Marcus's even breathing, waiting for any type of response.

A moment passes, then another, and finally Marcus shifts beside him.

“Seemed like you wanted the company.”

Esca cringes, glad that Marcus can't see him. “So, pity then,” he's aiming for aloof, but Esca's voice sounds bitter.

“Did I say pity?”

“You didn't have to.”

“Christ,” Marcus sighs, letting out a noisy breath of frustration, “you asked me to stay.”

It was true, he had. Esca usually asked his conquests to stay and by morning he'd grow tired of them. He'd find excuses. Some weren't great at conversation, some snored, some wanted to kiss him, others seemed like they didn't want to leave and Esca would escort them to the door and all but throw them out.

He wanted it to be the same with Marcus. The stubborn prick, refusing to stay the first night, making Esca _want_ to see him again. It had never happened before. Esca barely spared former conquests a glance if he ran into them again, let alone wasted time searching for any of them. Esca hoped having Marcus sleep in his bed would put an end to his interest in him.

Maybe he'll snore, maybe he'll breath atrocious morning breath all over Esca, maybe he'll say something moronic and Esca will find some sign that Marcus isn't the mystery he'd assumed. Hell, maybe by morning Marcus will _want_ to stay and Esca will finally win the upper hand by throwing him out.

“I can leave.” Marcus's voice pulls Esca from his thoughts, and he realizes he hadn't responded to Marcus's sigh of frustration. “No skin off my back.”

“No,” Esca says, a bit too forcefully. “You're here now, just stay where you are.”

Marcus makes a noise that sounds like a cross between a sigh and a laugh. “You do this a lot too?”

“Define _this_.”

“Pay people to fuck you and then ask them to spend the night?”

“And if I do?”

Esca can feel Marcus shift slightly. “Then I'd ask why.”

“Thought you had me all figured out.” It sounds smug when he says it, and Esca doesn't bother to disguise it. He feels smug. This is where it begins. The quick downward spiral which will lead him to throw Marcus out in the morning.

“I do,” Marcus replies, and he sounds just as smug. “You're lonely. Must be fucking draining to come home every night to this big empty house.”

Esca can feel his ire rising. “And what do you go home to? A filthy one-bedroom flat? A cardboard box? Cooking meals on a hot plate, and watching television through your neighbor's window? Please tell me how much more fulfilling your life is than mine.”

“You pay people to stay so you can ditch them in the morning.” Marcus ignores the biting words, which only makes Esca more furious.

“I tire of them by morning, yes,” Esca spits. “I expect it'll be the same with you.”

A bitter laugh echoes from Marcus. “Just business, right?”

“Right.”

“That's fucked up,” Marcus laughs.

“Says the man who is currently being paid to lie in my bed and insult me.”

“Never said my life wasn't fucked up,” Marcus replies, pausing as if he caught himself saying too much.

“Let's analyze you then,” Esca says snidely.

“No.”

Esca wants to push. He wants to analyze Marcus and tear him apart, but something in the fighter's voice keeps him quiet because Esca doesn't really know anything about Marcus. He's seems skilled at hiding things, and Esca is still clueless about him.

The conversation doesn't continue, and Esca finally resigns himself to temporary defeat as he shifts onto his side. He can still hear Marcus's even breathing and even though he fights to keep his eyes open he's pretty sure he falls asleep before Marcus.

So much for the quick downward spiral.

 

The morning sun is just starting to peak through the curtains when Esca wakes. A glance at the clock tells him it's half past seven, and he curses his internal clock which is so accustomed to his schedule it rarely allows him to sleep past eight a.m. 

Marcus is still beside him, sleeping silently, so Esca curses him too. Being awoken to the sound of snoring would've made things so much easier. It would've given him an excuse to kick Marcus out of his bed.

He's still searching for an excuse as he steps into the shower. Esca closes his eyes, letting the hot water stream down his face and over his body, washing away the smell of Marcus and the remnants of the night before. He stands under the water longer than usual, head hanging, hands splayed on the expensive tiles.

It should be easier than this.

 

When Esca strides out of bathroom, still naked and toweling his hair, he finds Marcus awake and watching him from the bed. Marcus is bleary-eyed and rumpled, and Esca has to pry his eyes from him as he tosses the damp towel on the bed and disappears into his walk-in closet.

“I'm gonna use your shower,” Marcus calls to him, all but handing him the excuse he's been searching for, and Esca pauses in front of a line of pressed trousers. If it were anyone else he'd say no. Or, if he was feeling particularly generous, Esca would suggest one of the guest room showers. He stares at the herringbone and pinstripes, contemplating, before he decides on one and yanks it so hard the hanger nearly spins around the rod.

“Fine.”

Esca waits until he can hear the hiss of water before he steps back into the bedroom. The bathroom door is open a crack, but Esca avoids looking in as he slips into his trousers. Marcus's clothes are still in a pile on the floor, and Esca fights the urge to pick them up and rifle through Marcus's pockets. There has to be identification in there. A driver's license. Anything. Something that'll tell him who this guy is, or where he lives, or even what his full name is.

But Esca leaves the clothes were they are. He doesn't need to cheat to get the information he wants.

 

Esca doesn't glance up from his newspaper when Marcus exits the shower.

“Awfully presumptuous to think you could use my shower,” he says from his position on the bed. He's not looking for a fight, he just wants to hear Marcus's response.

When there's no reply, Esca finally glances up. He finds Marcus staring back at him, towel wrapped around his waist and an unamused expression on his face.

“You said it was fine.”

“You'd already decided to use it,” Esca smirks, “there wasn't much I could do to stop you.”

Marcus takes a deep breath, letting it out in a huff. “So, is this your thing?”

Esca tries to disguise the confusion on his face. “What?”

“This,” Marcus says, gesturing between them. “This banter thing where you dig at me and think you're being clever.”

“With you it is. Does it bother you?”

Marcus shrugs. “If that's what you like. You're the one paying for it.”

Esca cringes inwardly at the reminder. He's used to paying for it. He prefers it. But occasionally it stings when he remembers people are there for the money, and Marcus in particular seems keen on reminding him.

“So it's morning,” Marcus continues, “aren't you supposed to be tired of me by now?”

“Maybe I am,” Esca replies, and his eyes travel down Marcus's body. He looks the same, cut and bruised and scarred, his tattoos curling around his shoulders and biceps, and snaking across his stomach, but somehow it's different to see him so clean. Esca can see him now, properly, without the blood and grime from the fight. Marcus's olive-skin looks dark against the bright white towel, and Esca can't believe he'd been so busy snarking he hadn't noticed. “Or maybe not,” he says, rising up on his knees and moving to meet Marcus where he stands on the other side of the bed.

He reaches out tentatively, slipping a finger between the towel and Marcus's abdomen. He holds it there, and when Marcus doesn't flinch Esca speaks.

“I could pay you to fuck me again, and then I'd be really fucking sick of you.”

Then Esca waits, because the offer is on the table and it's up to Marcus to take it or leave it.

Esca prides himself on being able to read people, but he's half convinced Marcus is going to say no when Marcus's hand rises up to touch him, thumbing over a nipple, teasingly, and then over to the other.

“Man of your word?” Marcus murmurs, and Esca nods.

“Money's yours.” He says as he gives a tug on Marcus's towel and lets its drop to the floor. Marcus is already half hard and Esca raises an eyebrow at him. “If you want it.”

Then Marcus is pushing him onto his back and turning him over, and Esca goes with it because Marcus's hands are far stronger than he'd realized. Marcus yanks down the back of his trousers and gives him a swift slap on his bare skin. If anyone else had tried it Esca would've lost his mind, but to date Marcus had been the only one with the gall to try. Esca is surprised to find himself growing harder and pushing his ass back with the hope that Marcus will hit him again.

And Marcus does.

It's swift and biting, and Esca can only pant against each stinging slap and beg “again” until he's so hard he can't fucking take it and he points to his side table. “In the drawer.”

 

When Marcus finally buries himself inside Esca, he's got him bent over the white sheets with a strong arm wrapped around Esca's waist. Marcus holds on, starting slow, easy, and Esca fists his hands into the sheets when Marcus lifts him up and begins fucking into him relentlessly.

It's slick and hot and dirty, and despite the strong grip Marcus has on him, Esca fights to turn over. He wants to see Marcus as he gets fucked. Wants to touch him, and slide his fingers over his cuts and bruises, and trace each scar until he has them memorized. He's never been one to get caught up in emotions during sex, but with Marcus he wants to see and touch, and instead of questioning it he fights within Marcus's grip to try to get himself turned around.

“No,” Marcus says, leaning down and muttering against Esca's ear, and it's as if he knows. He keeps a hold on Esca and places a hand between Esca's shoulder blades, holding him down against the bed. “Just business.”

Marcus fucks him until he comes and then Marcus pulls out again. From his place on the bed Esca can feel the stiffening in Marcus's body and then the warm splash of Marcus's come as it hits his back.

It's fucking good, and it's worth the money, but it leaves him wanting more.

Third fuck and apparently he's already lost.

Esca curses himself silently as they rise up from the bed. Marcus reaches for his clothes and starts to redress, and Esca wants to offer him something clean to wear, but he knows none of his clothes are likely to fit Marcus.

“At least stay for breakfast,” he says, because other than the money it's all he has to offer.

 

Marcus accepts the offer of breakfast.

Esca expected him to decline or to mock Esca for wanting him to stay, but he does neither. He nods as he redresses, watching Esca throw on trousers and a white undershirt. They make their way downstairs and Esca says nothing when Marcus disappears into the great room. He has a million comments on the tip of his tongue, but part of him is afraid Marcus will snipe back and end up leaving.

Esca hates himself for it, but he wants Marcus to stay for stupid bloody breakfast. There's still a chance he'll tire of him. Maybe Marcus will eat loudly or chew with his mouth open, or some other ridiculous annoyance Esca will be able to point to and then smugly toss Marcus out the front door.

 

“A fry-up okay with you?” Esca asks as he walks through the entryway to the great room. He finds Marcus standing by the window, next to the grand piano.

“Yeah,” Marcus replies, turning from the window to glance at him. “You making it?”

“No,” Esca laughs because he hasn't cooked a meal for himself in years. He's not even sure he'd know how at this point. “I have people to do that.”

Marcus looks unimpressed. “People?”

“People, you know, cook, gardener, maid, pool boy--”

“You have a pool boy?”

“Pool boy, pool girl, I don't know,” Esca explains, feeling defensive as Marcus judges him from his spot by the window. “A company sends them over. I'm never here.” He glances between Marcus and the piano, smirking as he gestures towards it. “You care to play something?”

Marcus glares at him. “I told you before, I don't play.”

“Right.”

When Marcus doesn't respond, Esca strides out of the room. “Breakfast then,” he calls behind him.

 

“Tomato sauce on your eggs?”

Marcus glances up at him, flicking the lid to close the bottle and licking some of the red sauce off this thumb. “It's ketchup.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. Ketchup on your eggs then?”

“Yeah.”

Esca makes a face and Marcus ignores him, shoveling a forkful of eggs into this mouth.

“Looks revolting,” Esca says, because he feels like picking at Marcus.

“You put it on the table. Should've left it off if--”

“I didn't put it there. The cook did.”

Marcus pauses in his chewing, glancing back up at Esca and using his fork to flick the eggs off his plate. The yellow and red concoction splatters across the white linen tablecloth, and Marcus sets his fork down beside his plate. “Anything else bothering you about my food?”

Esca looks at the spattered eggs and then up at Marcus, and he can't help the look of amusement on his face. “No, you're alright.”

Marcus goes back to his meal, hunched over his plate as he ignores Esca. Esca takes a few bites of his own meal, but he's preoccupied with the fighter across from him – the one who doesn't want anything from him, and doesn't seem to give a shit about what Esca thinks, regardless of what Esca might be paying him.

“Frankly, I'm surprised you stayed,” Esca says flippantly, because he really wants to see how far he can push Marcus.

Marcus lets out a huff of breath through his nose, taking a second to swallow before he speaks. “And this is where I'm supposed to ask why.”

“I knew you were clever.”

Marcus doesn't even glance up at him. “Yeah, so why then.”

“You said yourself you didn't want anything from me.”

“It's a free meal,” Marcus replies, taking another bite of bacon. “And I haven't eaten since last night before the fight, so I'm starving.”

“With the money I'm giving you, you could've bought yourself a first class breakfast anywhere in the city.”

Marcus finishes off his bacon and takes a bite of toast. “But then I'd miss out on your friendly breakfast chatter.”

“Ah,” Esca says with a smirk, “clever _and_ funny.”

Marcus finally stops eating and looks up at him. “If you want me to leave just say so. I'm here for your benefit, not mine.”

“Says the man who came twice and got paid for it. I'd say you're benefiting.”

Marcus smirks at him, and it's the first sign he's seen that Marcus might be amused by their banter. “Didn't hear any complaints from you when you were begging me to spank you.”

“Fuck off,” Esca says, but he doesn't deny it. There's no point because they both know it's true.

“Ha,” Marcus laughs, “did that hit a nerve?”

Esca frowns. “I said fuck off.”

“Nah, let's analyze you again.” Esca can see Marcus turning the tables on him, and he seems just as skilled at ripping Esca apart with words as he would've been if he'd used his hands. “Let's figure out why Mister Big and Mighty Rich Fucker likes to have his ass slapped.”

“Get out.”

“In his mansion all alone, paying people to screw him because he's so socially fucked he can't get it any other way.”

Esca stands suddenly, sending his chair screeching across the hardwood floor, and Marcus reacts so quickly his chair tumbles back behind him as he rises to his feet. Esca leans over the table, staring Marcus down, not entirely sure whether or not Marcus is going to punch him.

“Get the fuck out,” Esca seethes. “Now.”

“Took you long enough,” Marcus says, and the smirk on his face is maddening as he steps around the table and heads for the door.

Esca sits back down, resting his forehead in his hands, frustrated at the realization that Marcus beat him at his own game. He listens to Marcus's footsteps as he approaches the archway to the main hall, and he's angry that he lost again but he's also oddly terrified that Marcus won't be back.

“Marcus.”

When Marcus pauses at the doorway, Esca chances a glance in his direction.

“Are you going to make me search for you again?”

Marcus takes a moment to respond, as if he's considering. He seems to be watching Esca. Studying him.

“I'll be at the Barstow-Flanigan fight on Saturday,” Marcus says finally. “You have a bookie?”

“Yes.”

“He'll know where it is.”

Marcus walks out without saying anything more, and Esca is left with a plate of half-eaten food and the realization that he's completely and utterly fucked.

*

Esca watches six fights before he catches sight of Marcus. He sees him cut through the back of the crowd, hands already wrapped, and Esca figures he'll be fighting next. Making his way closer to the sidelines, Esca hears a few people mention Marcus by name, and Esca develops a nagging notion that his surname, Aquila, sounds familiar.

By the time Esca takes position near the front, the ref is calling the next match and Marcus steps into the ring. If he spots Esca he doesn't show it, his eyes intently focused on the ground as he waits for his opponent to enter.

It's a quick match, as most of Marcus's are, with Marcus taking a painful crack to his lip before he doles out a fast _jab jab_ to the guy's ribs, sending him keeling over onto the floor. When the guy rises he's favoring his left side, and Marcus seems to zero in on that, hitting him where he's most vulnerable, and then pummeling the hell out of him when the guy takes a swing and a miss at Marcus's jaw. Esca swears he hears the guy's ribs crack when Marcus throws his last punch, and then the guy is down on the mat and he stays there.

The ref calls it, declaring Marcus the winner and raising Marcus's arm in the air, and Esca watches as Marcus turns, allowing himself to be pulled by the ref. He doesn't make eye contact with the crowd, looking either at the floor or above the heads of the people, and Esca stares at him, trying to figure out why Marcus is so elusive with his gaze.

Then the second match is called, and Marcus's attention turns solely to his opponent, circling him like a wild animal and attacking when the guy seems most off guard. Marcus waits, occasionally letting his opponent get a hit in, letting the guy get a little cocky, and then he watches, waiting for the guy to make a mistake –maybe misjudge a hit, or take his eyes off Marcus for a split second too long– leaving himself open for a counterattack.

Esca realizes he's familiar with the strategy, it's the same one Marcus uses on him. Letting Esca run his mouth, taking jab after jab at Marcus, and Marcus just watches and takes it all in and then hits Esca where it hurts. Somehow knowing where Esca is most vulnerable and striking when he least expects it.

It's a brilliant strategy, Esca has to admit, as he falls for it every bloody time.

 

When Marcus's second match is over, with Marcus still standing, the ref calls the next match, the final one of the night, and the crowd heaves as everyone tries to move closer to the action. Marcus is led from the crowd, and Esca watches him go, trying to determine where he'll end up, and then he's elbowing his way out, trying to reach the outer edge of the crowd.

There's a back room this time, with security, and Esca approaches the guy at the door. “Aquila inside?”

“Maybe he is, maybe he ain't.” The guy looks Esca up and down. “Why you wanna know?”

Esca reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of bills. He takes out a folded hundred and holds it between his fingers.

“Is Aquila inside?”

“Fuck off outta here.” The guy makes a grab for the bill and Esca yanks it away.

“Clearly you don't know who I am,” Esca says. “So we can do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way involves you walking away with a hundred. The hard way involves me finding one of the bookies I know –and trust me, I know all of them– and coming back here to break your legs. Either way, I'm walking through that door, so the choice is yours.”

The guy glares at Esca as he steps aside. “Give me the money.”

Esca tosses it at him, watching the guy scramble for it as it falls to the floor. “And don't fucking pester me. I'll speak with Mister Aquila alone.”

 

Marcus's hands are still wrapped, and he's staring expectantly at Esca as he walks through the door. “Problem with security?”

“Nothing I can't handle.”

“I bet.”

Esca takes a seat in one of the random chairs, leaning back, crossing one leg over the other. “You look as if you were expecting me.”

“Didn't think it was a secret,” Marcus rolls his eyes, “you practically begged me to tell you where I'd be, so yeah, I was expecting you.”

“I didn't beg.”

Marcus leaves the statement alone. “So we playing this game again? Or can we just get to it.”

“And what game would that be?”

“Your smart banter game, where you say a bunch of clever shit, trying to get a rise out of me, and then I wipe the floor with you.”

Esca smirks. “You don't like that game?”

“I liked you better when you just said what you wanted.” Marcus turns away, quickly unwrapping the bandage on his left hand. “First night you walked in here acting like King Shit, but at least you were honest.”

“Fine..” Esca can feel himself bristle. Marcus does have a point, and Esca's always prided himself on being straightforward. “I'd like to fuck you again. Or, have you fuck me, if you want to be specific about it.”

“There, see, that's easier.” Marcus is still turned away, unwrapping the other bandage.

“So, shall I meet you at my limo?”

“Not yet,” Marcus says, crumpling up his bandages and tossing them in a waste bin. He turns to look at Esca, and Esca tenses in the chair, still somewhat fearful that Marcus might attack. “You've been acting like an entitled little asshole, so I figure it's time you do something for me.”

Esca bites down the urge to say something sarcastic and cautiously replies, “what would that be?”

Marcus hooks his thumb in the waistband of his track pants, pulling them down just low enough to reveal the root of his cock. Esca can't see the head, but Marcus is clearly already stiff, and Esca licks his lips as he glances up at Marcus.

“Show me that you want it and I'll go home with you.”

Esca doesn't even hesitate. He crosses the room and falls to his knees in front of Marcus, yanking down the front of his pants and taking Marcus in his mouth so deep his nostrils are buried in Marcus's groin. Marcus smells of sweat, and tastes of salt, and it's only a moment before Esca is hard as a fucking rock in his trousers.

Marcus's fingers curl in Esca's hair as he pulls his hips back slowly and then thrusts into Esca's mouth.

“You want this?”

Esca can only nod and hum against Marcus's cock, and Marcus shoves in harder, deeper.

“You want me to fuck you?”

Esca nods again, nearly choking as he curls his tongue around the thick length of Marcus's cock.

“Stop acting like a prick then,” Marcus says, and he holds Esca's head still, pulling his cock out until just the head is in Esca's mouth. Then he fucks in quickly, pulling the head of his cock back and forth over Esca's wet lips, continuing to speak as he does it. “Be honest and I'll give you what you want.”

Marcus fucks in harder, a slick _pop pop pop_ sound echoing through the room as Marcus pulls his cockhead over Esca's lips, and Esca has to wait for Marcus to ease off before he can reply.

“I want you to fuck me,” Esca finally says when Marcus seems seconds from blowing his load into Esca's mouth, and he pulls back and tucks himself away. Esca runs the back of his hand across his mouth, looking up at Marcus from his kneeling position on the dirty floor. “As hard as you can. Come home with me and fuck me.”

Marcus grabs him by the arm, tugging him to his feet, and pushes him towards the door. “Get your limo.”

 

The limo ride is nearly silent, with Marcus accepting nothing more than a glass of water from Esca, and he says very little until they're inside Esca's mansion and Marcus orders him upstairs.

“Not staining my expensive sofa tonight?” Esca asks, and Marcus responds by walking up the stairs and leaving Esca standing at the bottom.

“Make yourself at home,” he shouts after Marcus, and he barely hears Marcus mutter “get up here,” as he disappears into Esca's bedroom.

 

“Take off your clothes,” Marcus orders as soon as Esca walks through the door, and Esca quickly discards his shirt and tie, tossing them on the floor. He unbuttons his trousers and lets them fall to the floor as well, and is just about to pull down his briefs when Marcus says “leave those on.”

Each order is going straight to Esca's cock, and Esca is surprised to find himself hard before he's even completely undressed. He stands in front of Marcus, cock bulging in the front of his shorts, waiting for another command.

Marcus peels off his t-shirt, and his undershirt as well, tossing his sweat-stained clothes on top of Esca's. Normally, Esca would have a smart remark in response to such an action, one that would end with him demanding that Marcus get his filthy clothes off Esca's high-quality ones. But instead he says nothing. He waits, watching as Marcus circles him and grabs a few things from the side table drawer. Esca can see Marcus is hard as well, his cock hanging low, pushing against the front of his track pants as he walks around Esca's room, and Esca forces himself to stay silent. The words are on the tip of his tongue – sarcastic, biting words that would jab at Marcus and get under his skin. Words that would mock him for being hard, mock him for being so into it already. Esca's grown so accustomed to it, the viciousness and the constant sarcasm. Striking out at people before they can strike first.

But he bites his tongue.

“Get on the bed,” Marcus growls. “On your hands and knees.”

Esca obeys, presenting his ass to Marcus, and Marcus takes a slap at him. His large fingers land across Esca's left arse cheek, the pain somewhat eased by the cotton fabric, while his thumb leaves a stinging welt where it hits Esca's bare skin. He hits again and again, spanking Esca's ass until it's almost too much, and then Marcus smooths his hand across the fabric, dipping his fingers teasingly into the cleft of Esca's ass where the fabric has more give. He slides his hand down over the fabric, across Esca's hole, and down to rub against his balls and over his cock, teasing him.

Esca's cock strains against his briefs, and he spreads his legs, pushing himself closer to the bed and trying to push his cock harder against Marcus's hand. Marcus ignores the move, sliding his hand back up and moves to Esca's other arse cheek. Marcus slaps his clothed-skin until Esca finds himself begging for more, wanting more touch and friction, wanting to feel each stinging slap without the fabric in the way. Marcus peels down the back of his briefs, exposing Esca's ass to the air, and Esca can't help the moan that escapes him as he breathes hard against the mattress below, relieved that his dick is about to be freed from its confines.

But Marcus pulls the briefs down far enough to uncover his ass, and stops, leaving Esca's cock covered. Esca bites his lip, trying to keep himself from lashing out or begging again, and pushes his ass back towards Marcus, silently asking for the thing he wants.

“Say it,” Marcus commands.

“Aww fuck,” Esca hisses against the bed.

“Say it.”

“Hit me,” Esca mutters, pushing back again. “Your hands. Do it, hit me.”

Marcus hits him once, the slap ringing out through the room, and Esca lets out a shuddered breath. “Again.”

The sound of Marcus's hand on him echoes through the room, and each hit feels better than the last, biting against Esca's skin. He's so distracted by his own pleasure Esca doesn't realize that Marcus yanked down the front of his pants until his cock bumps against Esca's ass. The biting slaps end, and Marcus grabs hold of Esca, sinking his fingers into the tender flesh of his ass as he uses his other hand to grip his cock and rub the head of it against Esca's hole.

“Oh god,” Esca moans, unable to stop himself. “Marcus, do it please. Fuck me hard. Fuck me so hard.”

Marcus eases his grip on Esca's skin and slides his hand over his ass and down, over the fabric until he's rubbing against Esca's cock again. The fabric there is wet, soaked through with pre-come, and Esca can only close his eyes and wait, hoping Marcus will tug off his briefs and fuck him into the mattress.

Marcus seems to understand, or maybe he wants it too, and he slides the briefs off, tugging the fabric down Esca's thighs and forcing Esca to lift each knee as he takes them off. Then his hand is on Esca's cock again, teasing him, sliding his fingers through the slippery pre-come at the head, and Esca is still trying to push his ass back against Marcus's groin.

“Marcus,” he moans, “fuck me.”

Esca's begging, and he doesn't care. It gets him what he wants as Marcus slides a condom over his cock and pushes into Esca, sliding his length into Esca's waiting hole. There's no time to adjust, or even take a breath, before Marcus is pounding into him. Thrust after thrust, Marcus pulls back almost as quickly as he shoves in, and he's fucking into Esca, nailing him to the bed. Esca's cock is crushed beneath him, rubbing against the sheets, and Esca can only rut himself against the bed, almost thankful for the erratic friction against him, afraid he'd come too soon if he was able to jerk himself properly. 

Marcus fucks him hard, as hard as Esca had been hoping, and the headboard bangs against the wall as they fuck together, Esca tilting his hips, raising his ass to take each thrust, letting Marcus's momentum push him harder into the mattress. Esca's almost ready to come, the friction on his cock pushing him to the brink, and Marcus pauses, easing off for barely a second. Grabbing hold of Esca, and flipping him onto his back, Marcus hooks his elbows under Esca's knees and lifts him, pulling his hips off the bed and fucking into him again. Hard, relentless, holding Esca's hips in place as he pounds into him, and Esca can only reach up and fist his cock, tugging himself to the edge of release.

Esca stares up at Marcus as he strokes himself, and Marcus looks wild and determined, dripping with sweat as he fucks Esca harder. His muscles flex with the strain of holding Esca off the bed, but he doesn't falter in his movements, his hips thrusting harder and harder, pushing Esca closer to the brink each time his thick cock slides over that spot inside Esca's body.

Then Esca is coming, unable to take anymore. He lets out a long moan, shooting ropes of come across his stomach and chest, and Marcus doesn't ease up, his hips still thrusting even after Esca's spent cock falls against his stomach. On previous nights, Marcus seemed quick to pull out and jerk himself quickly over Esca's lax body, but he makes no motion to pull out, fucking into Esca until he seems on the brink himself.

“Do it” Esca groans, “I want to see you come in me.”

Marcus's movement stutters for a split second, and Esca is allowed a brief glimpse of Marcus losing control, and then Marcus is coming, his cock pulsing inside Esca as he shoots his load deep within him. His arms regain their fierce grip on Esca, and he gives three forceful thrusts, his speed slowing with each one until he finally stops, taking a deep breath before he slides his cock out. Marcus eases his arms out from under Esca's knees, then rolls the condom off and ties it in a knot, tossing it in the waste bin by the bedside table.

“I'm gonna take a shower.”

“Should I be insulted?” Esca asks, unable to stop himself, and he's surprised to find Marcus doesn't look annoyed.

“The fight,” Marcus says, as a means of explanation, and he heads to the bathroom.

Esca lets him go, biting down all words of protest and sarcasm. Marcus has used his shower before, why try to stop him now? Esca stays on his bed, still lying on his back, and listens to the hiss of the water as Marcus adjusts the temperature and then, presumably, when Marcus steps under the stream. Esca gives him a minute, debating whether or not to push it, then he stands, strides naked across his room, and walks into the bathroom.

Marcus glances up at him through the fogged glass, but says nothing when Esca opens the door and steps in beside him.

Esca's hesitant, not entirely sure how Marcus will react, and not wanting to end up defending himself while trying to maintain his balance on slippery shower tiles. Marcus eyes him as he extends a hand, wanting to touch, and he's pleased when he's allowed to touch Marcus's shoulder without any type of protest. Esca's fingers trail over the tattoo there, tracing the dark lines that twist around Marcus's muscles, and curve up over his shoulders, towards his neck. Esca is hesitant again as he moves to the other shoulder, tracing the pattern again, mirrored this time, and Marcus simply watches from beneath the stream of water.

Esca uses the opportunity to explore further, touching each nick and cut and bruise as his hands move over Marcus's torso. He traces the bumps of each scar, and stops to thumb over the tattoo on Marcus's abdomen. Marcus is watching him intently, his gaze never faltering, and Esca meets his eye, trying to gauge how far he can take it. Esca leans in, tilting his head towards Marcus, wanting to kiss him, and Marcus finally turns away.

The moment ends there.

Marcus runs his hands through his hair, rinsing out the filth and sweat from the fight, so Esca grabs a bar of soap and focuses on himself. He's determined he'll push it further another night, suddenly confident that there will be another night.

 

Esca stays until Marcus shuts off the water, and they retire to Esca's bed without Esca having to ask.

“No smart mouth tonight,” Marcus finally says after Esca switches off the light. “I'm impressed.”

“Well, if it gets me what I want.”

Marcus makes a sound, something akin to a laugh, and Esca turns to face him in the darkness.

“Got you to stay, yeah?”

“If that's what you think.”

“So I win this one.”

Marcus makes a sound again, a proper laugh this time, deep in his throat. “You didn't win anything.”

“You went from hating me, to fucking me like I wanted and staying the night. I'd say I won.”

“Never said I hated you,” Marcus says. “Hating you and feeling sorry for you are two different things.”

“Oh, fuck you, Marcus. I don't need your pity.”

“Yeah, you do. All alone--”

“Shut it. I've heard it before. Stop acting like you know me.”

“I do know you.”

“You fucking don't.”

“I know you're not the smug little bastard you pretend to be.”

Esca is struck silent for a moment. A million words play on his tongue, and he wants to strike back, to hit Marcus with something hurtful. Then it comes to him, the place he can hit Marcus the hardest.

“Well I finally know your name, Marcus Aquila. So we're even.”

Marcus doesn't reply and Esca steels himself, waiting for the fighter to attack. When Marcus finally speaks, it's not what Esca was expecting.

“Go to sleep.”

 

Esca wakes alone.

A glance at the clock tells him it's almost 4am and even in the darkness he can tell Marcus is no longer in bed with him. He reaches over to the side table and flicks on the lamp, bathing the room in soft light, and his eyes search for Marcus's clothing on the floor. His pants appear to be gone, but his shirts remain in a heap on top of Esca's own clothes.

The bathroom is dark, and Esca listens, trying to determine if Marcus is somewhere in the house. Hearing nothing, Esca moves carefully from his bed and extricates his trousers from the pile on the floor. His bare feet pad across the floor as Esca slips into the hallway, and he's moving silently down the stairs when his ears pick up on some sort of sound coming from the great room. It's quiet, barely there, and Esca has to strain to hear. It's not clear to him what he's hearing until he reaches the doorway and spots Marcus standing by the grand piano. He's bathed in shadow, the one small light glowing in the corner not enough to light the room. Marcus isn't playing, but Esca watches as his fingers ghost over the keys. Occasionally one of his thick fingers hits a key a bit too hard, and a soft tinkling of music echoes through the room.

It's obvious that Marcus is trying to be quiet, clearly not wanting to be seen or heard, and Esca is surprised he's made it so far without being noticed by Marcus's keen ear. He steps into the room, wanting to move closer to Marcus, trying to figure out why he'd be at the piano at 4am.

“If you're here to gloat, don't bother.”

Esca freezes mid-step. “How'd you know I was here?”

“Heard you on the stairs.”

Marcus is still turned away from him, his attention focused on the piano, so Esca chances a step closer. When Marcus still doesn't react, Esca risks joining him at the piano, standing at his side.

“So you do play?”

“Thought you knew everything.”

“Fuck, Marcus,” Esca sighs, “I'm trying to not be a prick here, remember?”

“No, I meant--” Marcus turns finally and takes a seat on the piano bench. “You know my name, so I thought you'd know about--” he gestures to himself and then around the room, “everything.”

Esca remains standing, watching Marcus carefully. “I heard your name at the fight. Which, by the way, if you were trying to be secretive, you did a shit job of it.”

Marcus glances up at him and he looks mildly amused, which Esca takes as a good sign.

“So whatever this _everything_ is,” Esca continues, “I don't know about it.”

“You will,” Marcus replies. “I know how you work. You'll look me up first chance you get.”

“Can't blame me for that. So tell me yourself then. What's your secret? What'd you do?”

Marcus laughs to himself. “I didn't _do_ anything.”

“Right, so what's the secret? You play piano, I already figured that one out.”

“Sit.” Marcus points to his side, and Esca takes a seat next to him on the piano bench.

It takes Marcus a moment to speak, as if he's contemplating how much to reveal. “Aquila. You recognize that name?”

“It's familiar, but I can't place it.”

“My father was a business man. Rich. I grew up with shit like this,” Marcus gestures around the room again, “big house, money, opportunity.”

Marcus pauses, and Esca isn't sure if he should wait or risk asking questions, and when it seems as if Marcus isn't going to continue, Esca speaks. “So where's he now?”

“Dead, I assume.”

“You assume?”

“He disappeared when I was fifteen. Couldn't pay his debts, estate was bankrupt. He left us with nothing.”

“And your mother?”

“Left when I was sixteen. She was in Vegas, last I heard, but that was several years ago.”

“Fucking hell,” Esca curses under his breath. “Selfish.”

Marcus shrugs. “He just got caught up in that world, trying to prove himself, and it destroyed them.”

Esca makes the connection, why Marcus has such contempt for Esca's lifestyle. Neither of them have to say it.

“I hated it,” Marcus says, answering the question Esca doesn't ask. “All of it. The pressure, the expectations, the loneliness.”

The last word seems like a dig at Esca, or maybe it's Marcus's way of showing that he understands. All those comments about Esca's loneliness, the smug pity. Esca brushed it off even though Marcus was right, and Esca hates that Marcus was right. He hates that Marcus was able to figure him out.

“So the piano..” Esca says, because maybe he's figured out a few things too.

“Lessons. From four years old until we lost the house, stupid fucking piano lessons, and I hated them. I hated that my mom made me play, hated that I had to waste hours inside when I could've been outside having fun. And what is the only part of that life that I miss?” Marcus laughs bitterly as he points to the piano. “I miss this. A stupid fucking piano.”

“At least you learned.” Esca turns and mashes his fingers over a few keys. “I wasn't allowed to touch ours.”

Marcus shakes his head and falls silent.

The conversation seems to end there, with Esca wary of asking any more questions and Marcus seemingly unwilling to reveal anything more. Esca turns to look at Marcus, and Marcus glances his way, side-eying him as if he doesn't want to meet Esca's gaze straight-on. It's the first glimpse of unease Esca has ever seen from him. It takes only a second for the unease to disappear, and Esca can see Marcus begin to steel himself, disappearing behind the fighter veneer.

Esca stands, wanting to catch Marcus before the moment is gone, and Marcus tenses as Esca moves toward him. Esca's movements are slow, deliberate, the way one would approach a wild animal, and he climbs onto Marcus's lap, straddling him on the piano bench. Marcus remains tense, his hands coming up to clasp Esca's thighs, and he's watching, waiting, seemingly torn between fight or flight.

“Stay,” Esca says, searching Marcus's eyes, mindful of his tendency to strike without warning. “I want you to fuck me again.”

The piano bench creaks as Esca puts all of his weight on Marcus, rutting against him. His hips roll slow, rubbing his ass into Marcus's lap, and finally Marcus sighs, his mouth falling open as he grips Esca's thighs and presses him down harder.

It's slower this time. Esca's hands wander over Marcus, touching his neck, his shoulders, his chest. His fingers trail over Marcus's tattoos, and prod each bump and bruise and scar, and Marcus lets him. He watches as Esca touches him, Esca's hands roaming over Marcus's torso, and when a stray finger skims Marcus's nipple, a soft breath escapes his mouth. Esca does it again, testing, watching Marcus's reaction, and then he lowers his head, slowly, still wary, and slides his tongue across Marcus's chest. Marcus's grip tightens on Esca's thighs, so Esca does it again, trailing his tongue over Marcus's nipple, licking until it's peaked and stiff, and then moving to the other one.

He's still rutting against Marcus, slowly, so slowly, and he can feel Marcus's cock pushing up against him. Esca is achingly hard in his trousers, and he wants Marcus to fuck him, to hold him down and pound the hell out of him, but he finds he wants this moment too. He wants to see how far Marcus will let him take it, this slow burn between them, and he slides his tongue up Marcus's neck, tasting his skin, licking the underside of his jaw, and then he's face to face with Marcus. He leans in, testing, seeing if Marcus will turn away again. They stay that way, as if they're both waiting for the other to react, and Marcus doesn't turn away this time, his gaze locked on Esca.

“Marcus,” Esca breathes, his mouth almost on him, and when Marcus gives a slow thrust of his hips, pushing up against Esca, Esca leans in and presses his lips to Marcus's. His tongue slips out, seeking Marcus's mouth, and Marcus opens for him.

Esca is surprised at how soft and yielding Marcus's mouth is, and the gentle way Marcus's tongue curls around his own when Esca deepens the kiss. It stays that way for only a moment, Marcus licking softly at him, and then his hands are gripping Esca tighter and he's leaning in, fighting for dominance over Esca's mouth.

Esca sighs, smiling against Marcus's lips, “ahh, that's it,” and Marcus finally releases his grip on Esca's thighs. His hands move to the front of Esca's trousers, yanking the zipper down, and he shoves his hand inside. His thick fingers wrap around Esca's length, stroking him hard and fast as he takes possession of Esca's mouth, licking and biting at Esca's lips until they're red and kiss-swollen.

Marcus eases off and pushes Esca from him as he stands. “Strip,” Marcus instructs, tugging off his pants and sitting back down on the bench, his thick cock resting against his thigh.

Esca pulls off his trousers and climbs back on Marcus, claiming his mouth as he pushes his ass against Marcus's groin. Marcus grabs hold of Esca's hips, rocking him so his ass slides perfectly along the length of Marcus's cock, and then he reaches for Esca's cock again, stroking him in time to their rutting. It's not the fucking Esca asked for, but it's better. It's dirty and teasing, and he rubs his hole over the length of Marcus's cock, the heat of it coaxing a moan out of him as he rides Marcus's lap.

Then Marcus's tongue is plundering his mouth again, pushing in, and his thumb flicks over the end of Esca's cock, and Esca is coming hard, shooting across Marcus's chest and up his neck, hitting him square in the jaw. Esca can feel a rumble of laughter coming from Marcus, and then Marcus holds him down harder, pushing his cock up against Esca's ass and he ruts against him until he comes, spilling over the piano bench and onto the floor.

Esca kisses Marcus's face as he comes, his lips pressing against Marcus's closed eyes, then his cheeks, then his chin. He does it quickly, while Marcus is distracted, afraid that he won't get another chance.

Marcus says nothing of it, but he turns his face away as his breathing returns to normal.

“We should go back to sleep,” Marcus says, avoiding Esca's gaze. “That's too many confessions for one night.”

 

They exchange few words in the early morning, both seemingly too embarrassed by the previous night's events to say much. Or maybe they're both waiting for the other one to speak first – to see where they stand.

Tension seems to ease after Esca showers and reenters his bedroom to find Marcus sitting on the edge of the bed, fully clothed. Marcus glances up at him, his face as open as Esca has ever seen it, and Esca approaches him carefully, stepping between his legs and searching his eyes for a moment before leaning down to kiss him. Marcus allows it, letting Esca's lips press against his own. It's softer than the night before, more casual, and Esca slides his hand through Marcus's hair before pulling away.

“Fry-up?”

“Yeah,” Marcus stands, watching Esca dress, “I'm starving.”

 

Marcus follows Esca to the dining room, avoiding the great room and the grand piano, and takes his seat across from Esca. Esca forces himself to say nothing when Marcus slathers his eggs in ketchup, and although Marcus doesn't even glance his way, Esca knows Marcus is waiting for a smart remark from him.

Esca stares, trying to read Marcus, trying to see the signs that indicate he's listening and observing and waiting for Esca to speak so he can strike back at him. But there's nothing. Marcus is eating eggs and chomping on bacon, and he's either let down his guard for a moment or he's even better at hiding things than Esca assumed.

“No look of disgust this morning?” Marcus says, as if he's reading Esca's mind, and he glances up with a smirk.

“It's still revolting,” Esca says, his voice lighter, teasing, “but I'd hate to have you ruin my tablecloth again.”

Marcus lets out a huff of laughter and goes back to eating his eggs. “You should try it.”

“Don't need to, thanks.”

“I could hold you down and force you to try it,” Marcus says, without glancing up.

It's Esca's turn to laugh. “I'd probably like that.”

Marcus just nods in response, amusement on his face as he continues eating.

The meal is far less hostile than their last breakfast together, and Esca realizes he isn't searching for an excuse to kick Marcus out of his house. Truthfully, he wasn't really searching for excuses the last time either, but this time he's at least admitted to himself that he doesn't mind having Marcus around. It's a strange realization, after so many years of viewing everyone he encountered with nothing but disdain and irritation.

“I should go,” Marcus says after he's finished his last bite of bacon. “Underground tonight.

“On a Sunday?”

“It's a trial thing. Jackie, you know him? He set it up, trying to make some extra cash.”

Esca nods. “That reminds me,” he says, standing, “I have to give you your money.”

He leaves Marcus in the dining room and heads to the great room to grab a wad of cash from his desk drawer. They hadn't discussed payment the night before, so Esca grabs the usual amount and then splits another stack in order to give Marcus a bit more. It's the most he's ever paid anyone. Esca rolls the money, wraps it in an rubber band, then slams his desk drawer shut and makes his way back to the dining room.

Marcus is still sitting with his back to the door and one hand fisted on the table.

“We didn't discuss it,” Esca says, tossing the roll of bills on the table. “But I gave you fifty percent more this time.”

Esca takes his seat again and finds Marcus staring at him. The look on his face makes Esca freeze – the mildly amused smirk is gone, replaced by Marcus's fighter facade. Fear washes over Esca as he realizes he's left himself wide open for an attack, and he's not sure if or where Marcus is going to strike.

“If you want more – ”

Marcus stands suddenly, and Esca cringes.

“Keep your fucking money,” Marcus says, glaring at him. “Find yourself another whore.”

Esca is speechless, and he watches as Marcus turns away and spits, actually _spits_ , on Esca's floor. Marcus heads for the doorway, and Esca knocks his chair over in his rush to stop him.

“Marcus – ”

“Follow me and you'll regret it.” Marcus's threatening tone is enough to keep Esca from chasing him down the hall.

The front door opens, then slams shut, rattling the windows across the main floor and causing the antique chandelier above Esca's head to shake.

*

Esca considers finding out the location of the Sunday fight, but then thinks better of it. Best to let Marcus cool off first.

He gives it a week, until the next Saturday night, and checks with his bookie to make sure Marcus is fighting. He skips the actual fight, not wanting to catch Marcus's eye in the crowd and give him a chance to escape. Instead, he waits on the outskirts of the crowd, listening as the rounds go quickly, as they always do when Marcus fights.

Marcus is declared the winner, and Esca briefly regrets not placing money on him – he should know by now that Marcus is a sure bet.

Esca stands near the back, wanting to catch Marcus as he's escorted to the private room, and his stomach flips when he sees Marcus cutting through the crowd. He's not entirely sure if it's fear or arousal, maybe it's both, and he steels himself as Marcus approaches.

Marcus catches sight of him and elbows the bouncer, tilting his head in Esca's direction.

“Get him outta here.”

The bouncer moves quickly and before Esca can react a strong hand is clasped over his shoulder. Esca tenses and raises a hand in warning. “Lay another hand on me and I'll break your fucking fingers.”

The guy freezes. He's a hell of a lot bigger than Esca and could easily toss him out, but instead he looks from Esca to Marcus, silently questioning Marcus.

Esca follows his gaze and can see a hint of amusement on Marcus's face.

“Leave him,” Marcus mutters.

The guy eases his grip as Marcus brushes past, and Esca follows him into the back room, closing the door in the bouncer's face.

“The fuck do you want?” Marcus is focused on unwrapping his hands, his back to Esca as if he can't be bothered looking at him.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“So talk.” 

Esca sighs. “I'm not sure what I've done, but obviously I've fucked something up here.”

Marcus lets out a huff of laughter. “Fucking clueless.”

“That's right,” Esca seethes, “I'm clueless. I was upholding my end of the deal and you got your fucking knickers in a twist, so why don't you tell me what I've done wrong.”

“I have better things to do.” Marcus tosses his bandages in the waste bin. “Find someone else to fuck you for money, I'm done.”

“What's the money go to do with it?”

“The money has everything to do with it,” Marcus spits, “I'm not your fucking whore, Esca.”

“I never said you were.”

“Normal people don't do this shit,” Marcus turns to look at him finally, “you don't make a connection with someone and then offer them fifty percent more for opening up. I mean, was that supposed to be a bonus? If I tell you more about my shitty life will you double it next time?”

“That's not what it was about.”

“Bet you had a good laugh about the piano,” Marcus tugs off his undershirt, using it to wipe a spot of blood from his chest before tossing it on the floor and pulling a clean shirt over his head. “Good for you. Got the tough guy to open up about his crappy childhood. Well done.”

“I wouldn't laugh at you for that. You're fucking paranoid.”

“Maybe you didn't laugh, but you paid me well for it, huh?”

“Oh, fuck you, Marcus.” Esca risks a step closer, pointing his finger in Marcus's direction. “I have money, you need money. I wanted to give you more because you _need_ it, but then you went into a bloody rage and took off without letting me explain.”

“I might need it, but I'm sick of getting paid to fuck you. It's messed up.”

“So fuck me for free then.”

“Fuck you for free?” Marcus shakes his head, letting out a frustrated sigh as he stares at Esca. “Who says that shit?”

Esca points to himself. “Socially fucked, remember? You said it yourself.”

They stare at each other. It's the first time Esca's been in one of these back rooms and hasn't felt as if Marcus is about to strike at any moment.

“Look, I don't know how to do this,” Esca says, breaking the silence, “I don't know how to fix this, but I'd like to try.”

“Probably easier if you just find someone else to fuck you. You've got the cash, I'm sure you can get anyone you want.”

“I'm not a man who gives up easily.” Esca risks a slow smile. “Besides, I'm not interested in someone else at the moment. I quite like the way you fuck me.”

Marcus rolls his eyes and grunts in response. Esca waits for him to say anything further, but he remains quiet, staring at Esca as if he's waiting for him to either continue or leave.

“You've got nothing to say?”

Marcus shrugs. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me what you want,” Esca steps closer, watching for signs that Marcus might attack, but Marcus doesn't seem to care. “You claim to appreciate straightforwardness, so be straightforward and tell me what you want. If you want me to leave, say it. If you don't want to fuck me again, say it.”

Marcus cocks his head, side-eying Esca as if he's trying to determine whether or not he's serious. “I don't want your money.”

“Fine.”

“It's fucked up.”

“You've said that.”

“You got your limo?” A smirk plays at the corners of Marcus's mouth, and Esca takes it as a good sign.

“As always.”

“I want to fuck you.”

“That's more like it.” Esca tries to withhold a grin. “Do we need to set new rules?”

“I'll set the rules." Marcus grabs his shirt from the floor and heads for the door, walking past Esca without even a glance. "Get your car.”

 

Esca waits for the rules, and when Marcus doesn't set any Esca thinks it wise to follow the old rules just to be on the safe side.

 _Don't speak, don't be a prick, and Marcus is in charge._ The first two are still difficult to obey, but the last one is easy.

Esca's cock is throbbing as soon as they're through the front door and Marcus is ordering him to undress, heading up the stairs ahead of Esca, just assuming Esca will follow obediently – which he does. Esca loosens his tie as he goes, toeing off his shoes at the bottom of the stairs, and he's got his shirt off by the time he's at his bedroom door.

Marcus is already stripped and waiting, his cock hanging hard between this thighs. He points to a spot on the floor in front of him.

“Get on your knees.”

Esca smirks, but does as he's told, walking across the room and kneeling before Marcus. Marcus grabs him by his hair, pulling him closer as he grips his cock and feeds it to Esca.

Esca takes Marcus as deep as he'll go, swallowing his length until he's almost choking and then easing off, pulling back, sucking languidly on the end of Marcus's cock until he's ready to swallow him down again. Marcus's fingers are still tangled in his hair and he grips tight suddenly, forcing Esca's mouth over him, shoving his cock down Esca's throat, and he holds him there, nearly choking him, forcing Esca to stay until his eyes are watering. In the frenzy of it Esca flashes back to that first night, when he lashed out, punching Marcus's thigh when Marcus held him in a similar position. But this time he takes Marcus's cock, choking, waiting for Marcus to let up, trusting that he will, and just when Esca's starting to question it, just as his gag reflex is about to kick in, Marcus eases, pulling him back by his hair.

With his free hand Marcus drags his thumb under Esca's eye, wiping away a stray tear.

“Good,” he mutters, sliding his cock across Esca's lips, gentle, easy. “Good.”

Esca continues sucking, letting Marcus set the pace as he grips Esca's hair. His own cock is still aching in his trousers, and Esca moves a hand down, trying to unzip, needing to stroke himself. Marcus pauses, easing Esca's head back and off him, and then he's yanking Esca up off the floor and shoving him towards the bed.

Marcus moves quickly, stepping behind him, rubbing his hand over the back of Esca's neck and down, kneading his skin, and Esca can't help the groan that escapes him when Marcus's hand comes around to unzip him. His fingers are frantic as he latches them in Esca's briefs and gives them a swift tug, pulling his trousers down at the same time, and Esca is almost thrown off balance as Marcus strips him. Then Marcus's hand is on his cock, giving him a few quick strokes and letting go. It's torture, and Esca thrusts his cock into Marcus's retreating hand, wanting to cry out and demand that Marcus do it again, and Marcus must sense it because he brings his hand up to cup Esca's mouth, silencing him.

“Do as I say,” Marcus growls in his ear.

Esca nods, panting harshly against Marcus's palm. Marcus pushes him down onto the bed, not giving him a moment to breathe before he's moving over Esca, pressing his cock into the cleft of Esca's ass, leaning his whole weight down on him. Esca's own cock is pinned beneath him, and he thrusts his hips down, trying to ease the throbbing need of it.

When Marcus eases off it's only for a second to slide a condom over his length, and then he's moving one hand to the small of Esca's back, the other gripping Esca's ass and easing him open as he slides his cock in Esca's waiting hole. Esca buries his face in the bedclothes as Marcus fills him, his moans muffled by the duvet, and when Marcus pushes in a bit too hard, a bit too deep, Esca bites down on the fabric, grits his teeth, and takes it.

When Marcus reaches a steady rhythm, burying himself inside Esca then pulling back, the harsh _slap, slap, slap_ echoing through the room, he shifts again and eases his weight off a bit. He grabs Esca's wrist and pulls his arm back, twisting it behind his back, and moves his other hand to Esca's hair, yanking his head back and holding him there as he fucks into him.

It's rougher than Marcus has ever been. He holds Esca in place, cranking Esca's arm behind his back until he's on the verge of crying out in pain, and Esca can only pant out “more, please,” as his back arches and his ass pushes out to meet each thrust.

“Good boy,” Marcus hisses, giving Esca's hair a tug as he slams in harder.

As Marcus pounds into him, Esca thrusts into the mattress, needing friction. He tries to slide his free hand between himself and the bed, his fingers fumbling to wrap around his length, but it's not enough. He wants Marcus's hands on him, wants to be close to him. As his climax builds, he wants to see Marcus, to touch him.

“Marcus.”

He doesn't say anything more, waiting to see what Marcus will do, and after a few seconds he can feel Marcus ease, as if he knows. Marcus lets go of Esca's arm and eases his hand out of his hair, pulling back long enough to flip him over. It's still rough, but it's enough to free Esca's cock and put him in the position he wants. He fists a hand around himself as Marcus hooks an arm under his knee and slides back into him.

When Marcus hits his rhythm again, Esca reaches up to wrap his hand around Marcus's neck and pull him down. He can feel Marcus tense for a moment before he allows Esca to pull him closer, and he leans over Esca, sweat dripping from his brow. Esca tilts his chin up, silently asking for a kiss, and Marcus watches him for a moment before he gives in, his mouth claiming Esca's as he fucks into him. Esca grips the back of Marcus's neck, not giving him the chance to pull away.

“Marcus,” Esca pants against him, pleading. 

Finally Marcus eases his arm out from under Esca's knee and leans closer, grabbing Esca by the waist and hauling him up, and Esca lets himself be maneuvered as Marcus pulls him up on his lap. He wraps his thighs around Marcus, and puts an arm around Marcus's shoulders before he can protest.

“Hold onto me,” Esca whispers against Marcus's ear. “Please, hold onto me.”

He knows he's risking a lot, but Marcus doesn't reprimand him. Instead, he settles a hand on Esca's back, and tangles his other hand in Esca's hair, holding Esca to him as he continues thrusting up.

Esca's head is lowered, his hand between them, stroking himself. He can feel Marcus's eyes on him, studying him, and he doesn't care. He's already shown Marcus everything.

He glances up, meeting Marcus's eye, and Marcus leans in then, kissing him hard, sliding his tongue over Esca's lips.

Esca lets out a broken sound against his mouth, and then he's coming, spilling between them as Marcus kisses him.

Marcus grips tighter, holding onto him as he rides out his orgasm, and then Marcus is coming with a shudder. He sighs against Esca's mouth as he shoots deep within him, his entire body shaking beneath Esca.

It takes a moment for Marcus to let him go, easing Esca off him as they lie back on the bed. 

There's no shower this time. No banter. No quick escape. They say very little, the pretense between them long gone.

“Marcus?” Esca finally says, when he's unable to withhold it any longer. He wants to discuss it, to find out what this is between them.

Marcus turns towards him, and they look at each other for a moment before Marcus takes a deep breath.

“We can talk about it tomorrow.”

Esca nods and reaches up to flick off the light.

 

He's awake several hours before Marcus, contemplating, trying to devise a plan. Being unaccustomed to emotional upheaval, Esca resorts to his default coping mechanism and shifts his mind into business mode.

He's in his office when Marcus finds him. It's a room he's never brought Marcus to, and one he rarely uses himself. It was his father's, and it carries a lot of bad memories – raised voices, criticism, disappointment. It's also the place Esca does his best critical thinking because, in his youth, he'd grown so accustomed to shutting down any semblance of emotion when he walked through the door.

“You took off.”

Marcus says nothing more, but the underlying meaning is obvious. Esca ran away.

After bearing his soul the night before, he wanted to wake up with Marcus that morning, to see Marcus's face and kiss him good morning, but part of Esca is still terrified. Afraid Marcus will laugh at him, point his finger in Esca's face and cruelly cut him down, tell him he should be ashamed, and he's no good, and no one could ever love him.

It wouldn't be the first time Esca's heard it, but somehow he knows it would break him to hear it from Marcus. He's let Marcus in, further than he's ever let anyone, and as much as it terrifies him, he wants to keep Marcus there.

But he avoids Marcus's unasked question, deciding instead to focus on business. “I'd still like to give you money.”

Obvious tension spreads across Marcus's body as he shifts against the door frame.

“Esca.” His tone carries a warning. “I told you – ”

“Not for the sex, Marcus, Christ, calm the fuck down.”

“For what then? You can't pay me after sex and then try to say it's not for sex”

“The sex was last night, and I'm not paying you anything today, so stop overreacting.”

“Fine,” Marcus sighs. “So what then.”

“I have a proposition for you.”

“Isn't that what started all this?”

Esca laughs finally, feeling the tension begin to dissolve. “I run my own company, surely I can find something for you to do.”

“I don't fit in that world,” Marcus grunts, waving a hand to dismiss the suggestion.

It's true. Marcus had grown up in that world, the same way Esca had, with the expectations that he'd get a desk job and live his life making big money for a company he despised. Esca can't picture Marcus attending meetings and living his life as a bored pencil-pusher.

“Let's get out of this room,” Marcus says, interrupting Esca's thoughts. “I don't like it.”

Esca shoots him a confused look. He's never liked the room either, but it's strange to hear it from Marcus. “Why?”

Marcus shrugs. “It's too big for you. Doesn't suit you.”

Esca's first reaction is to strike back, questioning whether or not “too big” is an insult, but something in Marcus's expression tells him it's not meant to be taken that way. The room _is_ too big, and more his father's taste than his own.

He bites his tongue, and nods, rising to follow Marcus out the door. “Bet breakfast is ready anyway.”

 

They eat silently. Marcus has his head ducked as usual, eating most of his meal with his hands, and Esca sits across the table from him, watching. Marcus's hands are strong, his fingers quick, and Esca stares at the thickness of his neck and the powerful line of his shoulders as he hunches over his plate. 

“I could use better security.”

Marcus glances up at him. “What kind of security?”

“I dunno,” Esca shrugs. “Bodyguard?”

Marcus laughs loudly, pushing his plate away. “I saw you with that bouncer, I think you can handle yourself.”

“It's all bluster,” Esca explains, leaning back in his chair. “I'm smaller than most blokes, way I was made, can't help that.”

Marcus stares at Esca, and the fact that he hasn't declined the offer encourages Esca to continue.

“I could use someone with more muscle around me.”

Marcus gestures between them. “So what about this?” 

“We can still do this.” Esca says quickly, hope building in his chest. “But you still need money, so during the day you work for me as security. I pay you for that, and then behind closed doors you can fuck me over my desk. It's win-win, yeah?”

“Esca, stop.” Marcus's voice brings Esca to a halt.

They consider each other across the table before Marcus speaks again.

“Is this really what you want?”

“Yes.”

Marcus stands suddenly and moves to the opposite side of the table. Esca braces himself as Marcus approaches, waiting for a fight, but Marcus simply leans back against the table and looks down at him.

“Look, I'm not saying no to the job. But tell me what this is really about.”

Esca stares up at Marcus, and he knows he's capable of saying awful things, like pity, or needing a bodyguard and wanting a good fuck once in awhile, and how he's just trying to kill two birds with one stone. But neither of those have anything to do with his reason for offering Marcus a job.

Esca sighs, knowing Marcus wants honesty from him. “I don't want you to leave.”

“Okay,” Marcus says, and he raises his hand to touch Esca's face, thumbing over the stubble on Esca's jaw. “Okay.”

*

  
EPILOGUE  


  
_six months later_  


“You're obsessed with those,” Marcus mutters.

Esca straddles him, naked, and trails his fingers along the tattoos that peak out from the rolled-up sleeves of Marcus's dress shirt.

“I am,” Esca laughs. “I'm starting to think I should get one.”

Marcus raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Sure.”

“What would you get?”

Esca slides off Marcus's lap, the leather under him squeaking as he spreads himself out on his stomach and rests his head on Marcus's clothed thigh. “I dunno. I'd have to think about it.”

He can hear Marcus chuckling above him.

Esca cranes his neck, glancing up. “What?”

“Right here,” Marcus says as he leans over Esca, trailing his fingers across the flesh of Esca's bare ass. “Property of Marcus Aquila.”

“Fuck off,” Esca laughs and gives Marcus a playful punch to his thigh.

 

They don't talk about love – the word isn't in their vocabulary.

But they know about other things, like trust and loyalty, and when to let your guard down. And how to let someone in when you've already turned your back on the world.

Marcus moved in at some point. He didn't have much to bring, so the process wasn't obvious, but at some point he simply stopped leaving. Marcus doesn't promise that he'll still be there each morning, but Esca has come to trust that he will be.

And Marcus has started laughing again. Proper laughter now, not the bitter kind Esca used to drag from him. The piano remains untouched, but Esca figures it's only a matter of time and he's learned not to push it.

They've talked about moving, getting the hell out of Esca's family home and the rich lifestyle that Marcus despises. But something inside Esca keeps him holding on to it, some twisted part of him that needs that last tie to his painful childhood, and Marcus seems to know not to push it.

It'll all happen in time. And they both know they have time now. Neither one is taking off.

Love left them both long ago, but they're working to find it again.


End file.
